


He Wonders

by MKYouth



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (best tag personally), Based on events to take place Tomorrow, Bombs, Festivals, L'manburg blows up, Melancholy, Not Beta Read, Speeches, Wilbur visits the ruins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27039310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKYouth/pseuds/MKYouth
Summary: The detonation goes off before the final words are said.Though miles away he can hear the shriek of the microphone picking up the boom, he short- maybe 2 second moment where all noise- all reaction is broadcasted to the rest of the server. It’s headache inducing, yet he doesn’t go to cover his ears. He realizes, standing on this hill that he’s the only one to hear it.---Wilbur pulls the lever and visits the ruins, the moments leading up to it and after.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	He Wonders

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to get my own hypothetical out quick, sorry if its lackluster! I wrote this a little late lol.

The detonation goes off before the final words are said. 

Though miles away he can hear the shriek of the microphone picking up the boom, he short- maybe 2 second moment where all noise- all  _ reaction  _ is broadcasted to the rest of the server. It’s headache inducing, yet he doesn’t go to cover his ears. He realizes, standing on this hill that he’s the only one to hear it. 

Frozen in place, he glances to the place Manburg, L’manburg, once stood. A cloud of smoke rising from the area. No detail of land to be found over the trees, just soot coming to meet the clouds and the gentle glow of a fire on evening sky. 

He moves his hand from the lever. Tearing his gaze from the distance and looking to the trail of redstone that falls underground to a system of carefully set up mechanics- one that he set up- to create this terrible event. 

He did that. He pushed his hand down, he built the redstone, he set the TNT. 

He caused this.

The world feels still. He knows he’s the only one right now to experience this. Nothing is moving but the gentle sway of the trees from the passing wave of hot air, the rising cloud of smoke in the distance, and him. 

He takes steps to the ruins, he needs to see what he’s done. 

* * *

He’d waited so long for the boy to stand on the podium. 

The festival was an ongoing event, at any moment he could have gone to the lever and pulled it. There wasn’t a time when everyone wasn’t there, enjoying themselves- attention on this and that. It made his expression twist with a whirlwind of emotions. 

The boy- Tubbo, though seen to be a spy in his own plan, had set up a nice time for the enemy- the enemies, all the traitors that attended the event with malice for himself in the back of their minds. He’d wondered why he’d even trusted them, standing on the branch of a tall tree- he looks over the crowd. 

The original traitor; a man now crowned a King, Eret. One of the first members in the rebellion against the dictatorship that had a firm hold on the world; now, the enemy of his enemy. He’d came crawling back to his feet when the outcasting came, he’d never accepted it. Though, the  _ Other _ did. He’d pity the blonde boy for ever thinking such things- the King was a traitor. The title said it all. 

His son; Fundy, another traitor. Speaking of his father with such ill will painly as day, doing the bidding for the president- no hesitation to anything he did for the man. It made him sick, it made him sad- disappointed- enraged. He looked away. 

The first lady; Niki… now fighting for L’manburg. 

He frowned.

There’s a tap on a mic, and all the festival goers turn to the man at the podium. 

He shifts his weight on the tree, moving a branch to see the ram at the chair. Even at this distance, he can see the sly smirk that crosses his face. He bites his tongue, wanting to say an insult against the man. He doesn’t for the sake of stealth, what good is preparing for the largest surprise if you give yourself away in the end? 

A voice echoes through the server, “Well? How's the day been so far?”

There’s cheers from the audience, and he hears the familiar voice of a dutch foxman being the loudest in the crowd. 

He wouldn’t regret this. 

“That’s what I like to hear- festivities fun? Drinks? Food? All that good? Had Tubbo pick it all himself,” He gestures to the boy behind himself, Tubbo taking a step forward. “He even prepared a speech- taking the extra mile like a true Manburgian would,”

Wilbur’s stomach churns, this is the time. 

The ram takes a step to the side, and the boy comes forward and onto the steps of the chair.

“Hi,” He starts, the inflection of his voice giving his nerves away, “I was- I prepared a speech… for you all today.”

He gulps.

“To celebrate, the present- and future of  _ Manburg _ . Though, I find it proper to address the past of our nation- before anything else.”

His frown waivers.

“Manburg wasn’t always a democratically run nation, most of us know this, and well, Manburg wasn’t always Manburg.” Behind the boy, the ram frowns. “L’manburg was a nation raised on community and revolution, to fight the dictatorship we were ruled under and to create a peaceful nation of our own.”

The ram takes a step forward and is stopped by an old enemy, blue shirt now covered in a blazer putting a foot ahead of the President. Wilbur finds himself getting more ticked off, he had no reason to protect this speech- it was all for nothing anyway, the ram,  _ Schlattm _ had no reason to get mad at ANY of the words being said. He’d torn it all down, he’d taken apart the nation Wilbur once spent ages trying to protect. 

“I remember the rules like they were yesterday… no americans, no armor, fight with words- though I also remember the last two being broken more often than I can count.” 

He has a certain infliction in his voice that causes a whirlwind of emotions to rise, both for the crowd that was there to see it all and the boy himself.

It feels to have the opposite effect on Wilbur. 

He tightens his grip around the branch he’s holding onto, jaw clenching more with every word said. He was a traitor- they were all traitors, none of what they fought for  _ mattered _ \- so why would they care to yearn for it again? Why would they care to look back on it?

None of it made sense to him, and that made him mad.

“Our independence came with the loss of a lot, our nation being rebuilt from nothing, Tommy’s precious disks being traded off… the loss of a friend…”

Wilbur jumps down from the tree.

“Though I guess our pride of it all got ahead of us- holding an election that led us to this.”

  
Leaves crunch under foot, and trees sway with the evening wind.  
  


“Not that it’s bad or anything- it’s just, different.”

He climbs a hill, a rough cutout on a tree spotted in seconds. 

“This is an ode to L’manburg, our nation's former glory.”

Wilbur wraps his hand around the wooden handle…

“Let us live to see it re-”

There’s a shriek from the microphone, and he knows he’s the only one alive to hear it.

* * *

  
  


The ruins are different than last time.

He can’t tell what that makes him feel. 

There’s no walls to be in ruin, no caravan on it’s side. There’s unfamiliar buildings falling from their scaffolding, grass- dirt- and wood upturned and set aflame. 

He’s alone, here, the first to see Manburg in this state. He doesn’t know what that makes him feel. 

It’s elegiac, nearly. He knows what this place is, he knows what everything once was. He recognizes the distant land patterns and the building structure of these broken down buildings. So familiar, yet so far away. A concept he’s yet to grasp.

It’s like a ghost town he’s been to before, he knows it all, but somethings changed.

He’s seen this exact land in the same state before- but it isn't the same? Is it?

The blast leaves most of the land unrecognizable, in that sense. Nothing will be the same here, just like nothing ever was the same when the old ruler blew L’manburg up. Sure, they could rebuild, they could try- but there would always be patches of land that were redone differently than they were before the detonation. 

He doesn’t know how to feel, and that scares him.

He wonders what Tubbo felt like when he pulled the lever down, being the first to feel the heat against his back before it all went dark. He wonders how Niki felt, when he pulled the lever and tore everything she was fighting for out of her hands… He wonders how Eret felt when he took away his one chance of redemption. 

He wonders how his son felt when he blew up the one place he ever knew as home. 

He doesn’t know what to feel by these thoughts.

The smoke is nearly suffocating, the fire is bright and it burns with a passion he feels he lost. His vision is blurred by something, and he doesn’t know if it’s tears. 

He wonders…

Surrounded by ash and flame, he wonders why he feels so cold. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading !! If you liked maybe drop a comment and kudos ?


End file.
